Best Of

Thank you so much for all your comments. All of them are helpful. Writing that post was cathartic for me (it just came out of me, and I am not a writer) and I feel much better today. I am not in pain, though I know the pain will return. What I forgot to say was that I have an excellent care coordinator through my employer who has already made some of those suggestions and is available to help me find the resources I need. I have a great therapist. Unfortunately, my primary care clinician, a wonderful nurse practitioner, is retiring. So, I will need to do a search for another, a scarce resource. I think my major struggle form here on will be to let go of the idea that I will completely heal. The ability to heal seems to be tied into my identity in a surprising way. Recognizing that is the first step to acceptance, and perhaps a new definition of healed.

I am facing my last treatment for triple positive breast cancer next Thursday. I had heard that ending treatment can be difficult and I have been trying to prepare myself by building other support outside my care team. However, I find that the biggest problem is the reckoning with what has happened to me. There have been 5 components of treatment: lumpectomy, chemotherapy, immunotherapy, radiation, and an aromatase inhibitor. Each of them has taken a piece out of me, and I find myself incredibly diminished. I have neuropathy - my ears ring, my lips and tongue tingle, the palms of my hands and bottom of my feet are numb and sensitive and my right leg hurts. I had an outside consultation last week, and that oncologist told me the sensation would not be coming back and all I could do is manage the pain. My oncologist keeps telling me to wait and see. I have pain in my breast that is unpredictable. It comes and goes and sometimes I have sharp pains. My nipple is very sensitive. It is so distressing that I have mentioned to my nurse that I would consider having the breast removed. No response or help, which I interpret as there is nothing they can do. I have lymphedema, not too bad, but it contributes to the breast pain and requires daily self-care. I have joint pain from the letrozole. It is manageable, if that was the only thing, but it is one more thing added to everything else. My hair is the least of my worries, but it grew back gray after the chemo and my hairdresser (and the outside oncologist) told me that the color won't come back. My care team kept telling me it would revert to my previous color. I lost my best friend of almost 40 years who I discovered is constitutionally incapable of providing comfort and reassurance and took offence when I asked her to stop mocking my fears. To be honest, I had known there were some problems there for a while. Still, it has been distressing, and it's a loss. All of this contributes to a sense that I don't know this person I have become, and what I do know of her, I don't much like. But the worst is that I cannot maintain my home (I live alone) and I am struggling at work. Between the ear ringing and the breast pain I cannot concentrate on work. When I started treatment, I told my team that my goal was to be able to continue to live independently, but now that is at risk. I don't have the financial resources to have someone do the things around the house I can no longer do, like yardwork. I don't want to see my care team next week. Physically I look good. My labs look good. The oncologist and nurses all tell me I am doing well. None of my deficits are visible. But they are painful and debilitating. I am angry that this has happened to me, and although I am aware that they didn't "do this to me," I can't pretend that I am OK with my outcome. Are my care team expecting me to be happy that my treatments are over? I think other people are expecting some sort of joy from me, but there is none. I'm devastated.